


Quibble, Squabble... Squibble?

by calrissian18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calrissian18/pseuds/calrissian18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's late.  Draco's annoying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quibble, Squabble... Squibble?

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit o' snark for you on this fine Friday.

 

Harry's foot caught on an art deco, post-modern, 'don't-you-know-everybody-has-one-nowadays-idiot' hunk of tin foil that had been cleverly abandoned in the front hall. At least, he _hoped_ it had been abandoned and not purposefully placed. He shivered over the hypothetical argument he and his— _whatever he was_ would have over that particular disaster before finally managing to pin his cufflink in place with a triumphant scowl. "Draco," he bit out, chewing the name angrily once he spotted the man in question.

The blond layabout was a study in idleness as he stretched and spread out to fill the entirety of their sumptuous couch. A book was propped up on his chest so it covered half his face, all the better to utterly ignore Harry with.

That was _so_ not on.

"Draco, Draco, Draco, Draco, Draco," Harry chanted obnoxiously.

Draco leisurely turned a page, adding in a lugubrious voice that Harry generally assumed was reserved for ghosts and World Cup losers, "Yes, I can hear you."

"Most people would respond in that situation," Harry pointed out in a strangled voice as he fought bitterly with his tie.

Harry could see Draco nod in a scholarly fashion over the rim of his book. He held up a single finger, licked it and turned another page. "When have I ever given you the impression that I am _most_ people?" He seemed genuinely curious.

Harry was not about to have a conversation about Malfoys and their incomparable attributes – _again_ – and decided to remind him only a bit forcefully, "You said you'd be ready by 5:00. Try and guess what time it is." _5:07 and nine seconds… ten…_

Draco sat up with a frown. "Harry, come now, of all the things I've said," he lowered his book against his chest contritely and Harry thought _finally_ he'd get some recognition and they could _move_ , when he finished his thought: "that's one of them."

Harry's eyes bugged and he tugged his recently tamed hair back into its au naturale state of complete madness. "I hate when you are deliberately obtuse!"

"That's a bit presumptuous, isn't it?" Draco noted with his nose upturned. "You have no way of knowing if it's deliberate or not. If not, it would be very rude to draw attention to it," he chastised with a mighty sniff.

Harry sank down on the arm of the sofa Draco was stretched out on and buried his face in his hands. "You are utterly infuriating," he muttered into his palms.

Draco considered this for a moment and then decided, "I don't think that's true at all."

Harry peered out the side of his fingers with narrowed eyes. "I don't even know why I talk to you."

"I'm with you there," Draco agreed, continuing on haughtily, "you're clearly not as skilled at it as I am. It's like tennis, Harry, you have to find a partner of your own ability."

Harry dragged his fingers down his face in utter exasperation. "Why do I teach you things?" He flopped down on the far end of the couch in defeat, surprised when he didn't land on Draco's legs but unwilling to open his eyes to see where the bastard had got to.

"So I can later use them against you," Draco answered promptly and Harry snorted. He threw an arm over his face and was about to settle in when he heard Draco's sharp, "Harry!"

_"What?"_

Draco pulled the arm off his face and Harry looked up to find Draco dressed and with gift in hand. He tutted down at Harry. "I seem to remember we were meant to leave by 5:00," he tapped his foot huffily, "it's sixteen after. I don't appreciate this lazing about, you realize."

He turned on his heel and was humming as he pulled his cloak down off the peg by the door. Harry grumbled and rubbed a hand over his face angrily as he got to his feet. "I'm plotting your death," he groused as he made his way to the front door.

Draco whirled about with a winning smile. "Did you say something, _dear_?"

Harry plastered on his own grin and admitted, "Love you," as he leaned in to catch the corner of Draco's mouth.

Draco practically skipped down the drive while Harry darkly thought about all the hexes he could get off at that tin foil monstrosity before Draco caught him at it.


End file.
